


Day 227

by Josh_the_Bard



Series: A Year in Kirkwall [227]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25926196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Josh_the_Bard/pseuds/Josh_the_Bard
Series: A Year in Kirkwall [227]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1589257
Kudos: 1





	Day 227

It was the last day of the Festival and Hawke was determined to enjoy himself. There were, apparently, many activities on offer, but Hawke had been too busy fighting with Magisters and demons to enjoy them. Varric probably would have spent the day with Hawke but he was having a ‘family thing’ with Maevaris and Thorold. Merrill was busy helping the escaped slaves adjust and Noll hated him anyways. Aveline seemed opposed to the idea of having any sort of fun right now and Anders hadn't left his clinic in days.

Hawke hadn’t realized how short his list of friends was until now. He could maybe have spent some time with Gamlen but he doubted they would have the same idea of fun. To call Jansen a friend would have been a stretch and the man was busy between his newborn child and his new business. He had some contacts in the templars but contacts and people you can stand to be around for more than five minutes were not the same thing.

Without any friends he could ask to join him, Hawke ended up hiring one. His first stop for the day was to Rose to meet Rirana. The daytime rates were much cheaper than the evening ones though Hawke rarely had to check the price of things anymore. One of the many insidious ways that he was turning into a noble.

Rirana took a moment to get ready for their day out. When she emerged from the back rooms she was in a lovely day dress. It was surprisingly tame for Rose fashion. A long, flowy dress with a lace shawl.

“Where are we going?” Rirana asked as they stepped outside.

“I don’t know,” Hawke said, with a sudden realization. The enter city was open and the limitless choice was a bit overwhelming. “Have you heard what’s good?”

“There’s a woman in Darktown that is doing cheap portraits for a few coppers,” she said. With no better ideas, Hawke agreed and they went all the way to the bottom of Kirkwall. The woman was Greta, a name Varric had mentioned once or twice.

“You’re the Champion!” Greta shrieked when they arrived. “I can’t imagine what you could want with me?”

“We’re here to get our portraits done,” Rirana said. Greta worked quickally, and when she was done she presented them with a highly stylized representation of them. Hawke’s nose looked enormous but it was nothing compared to Rirana’s ears, though Greta had managed to reproduce her valasleen almost exactly.

“Is my nose really that big?” he asked. Greta looked horrified but Rirana laughed.

“It IS your most prominent feature,” she said. “I think you cut a very striking silhouette.”

“If you want a more detailed drawing...” Greta ventured.

“Not a chance,” Rirana said. “I think this is a much more faithful representation of our champion than that horrible statue they’re building down by the docks.”

“That stupid thing,” Hawke groaned. “Yes this is much better. Thank you, Greta.”

Rirana took the drawing and rolled it up to put in her bag. “Where should we head next?”

They spent the rest of the day much like that. They both challenged a mysterious automaton to a game of chess, and both were thoroughly trounced. They rode up the staircase to Hightown in the newly invented triple-wheeled cart and they ate all kinds of pastries until they felt sick.

As the sun went down they sat with their legs dangling over the pier watching as the circle mages cast dazzling spells into the sky. Hawke always imagined this was the kind of thing his father used to do. When he was growing up his mother loved to tell the story of the day he had come to perform for a visiting Orlesian noblewoman and had summoned a Hawke out of flames to surprise and delight the crowd.

Malcolm Hawke had always had an affinity for fire, a skill he had passed onto his children. Bethany had never taken to magic like Hawke had, mostly she just wanted to know enough to hide herself and defend against demons. Maybe if she had been more interested in combat magic, she wouldn’t have died during the Blight. Not that skill at arms had saved Carver, and not that Haw’s skill had been enough to save either of them.

Before he died, Malcolm had asked Hawke to look after the family. It was hard to imagine how he could have failed more completely.

“Fisher,” Rirana whispered. Hawke had been so lost in thought that he had forgotten the woman was beside him. Hawk whipped the tears from his face and they both pretended Rirana hadn't seen them.

“Just… remembering better times,” he said. 

Rirana nodded. Slowly, she reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. When Hawke returned the gesture she leaned her head against his shoulder. They sat there silently until well after the mages had stopped the show and returned to the gallows. The gallows where they were kept prisoner under increasingly draconian measures while Hawke lived freely. One more thing to feel guilty about.


End file.
